


Pot, Kettle

by unfolded73



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 21:25:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7239094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfolded73/pseuds/unfolded73
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Because, you two are so in love with each other, it’s almost sickening,” Snow said, tipping her glass up to empty it into her mouth. “And that’s coming from me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pot, Kettle

**Author's Note:**

> @j-philly-b challenged me to write pure Captain Swan fluff, implying that I was incapable. So here is some immediately post-S5 fic that will rot your fucking teeth out. Let's pretend that our heroes get a little break before they have to deal with the next Big Bad(s), shall we?

“And they know we’re coming over, right?” David asked.

Snow squinted up at her husband as she pushed Neal down the sidewalk in his stroller. “You heard me talking to Emma on the phone fifteen minutes ago.”

“I know, just… checking.”

“Checking what?”

He huffed. “Checking that we won’t accidentally catch them doing anything… you know.”

“I think they can manage to restrain themselves for an evening, David.”

“Look, I know you think I’m being an overprotective father, but I think you’re missing my point.” He stopped her from walking and gave her a grin. “If you’d been dead and came back to life, hell, if we went through even half of what they went through, it might take more than a week for me to let you out of my bed.”

Snow leaned over and planted a kiss on his lips. “Damn straight,” she said before she resumed walking. Glancing at him, she added, “But this is a little bit you being an overprotective father.”

“Just a little bit,” David agreed.

They turned onto the walkway up to Emma’s house, David juggling the casserole dish he was carrying as he unlatched the gate and opened it for his wife to wheel the stroller through. “I still think this house is too big. What are they going to do with all this space?” asked David.

“Have lots and lots of babies, I imagine,” Snow said as she stopped at the bottom of the stairs and lifted Neal out of his seat. As she straightened, she noticed David’s wide eyes and laughed. “I’m joking.” 

Killian opened the door a handful of seconds after they knocked, smiling and stepping back to admit them. 

“Hi, Killian,” Snow said, making a point of using his given name. She was trying to drop the habit of calling him ‘Hook.’ Although he’d never given any indication that he minded either way, she felt like it meant something to call him by name. “We brought chicken,” she said, gesturing to the covered dish her husband had dutifully carried from their apartment.

“Thanks much,” Killian said, taking the dish from David and carrying it into the kitchen.

“Where’s Emma?” David asked.

“She’s in the shower; she’s running a bit behind this evening.”

David gave her a significant look as if to say, ‘ _See?_ ’ As if a woman couldn’t take a shower on a Saturday evening without there being some sex-related reason for it. Snow rolled her eyes.

“What’s going on in here?” she asked, noticing that the living room was in quite a bit of disarray. There were boxes everywhere, and the walls were obviously being prepped to be painted. None of the artwork that had been on the walls before was in evidence.

“Oh,” Killian said, scratching behind his ear. “As it turns out, Emma’s preferences for home decor as the Dark One were quite a bit different from our Emma’s. She's quite determined to change it all. Henry’s been helping.”

“Where is Henry, by the way?” David asked. “Big date?”

“Aye. He took Violet to see a film, I believe.” 

Snow could tell Killian was tense, as if he were hyper aware of the fact that he was playing host to his partner’s parents in the house he'd recently begun sharing with her. He was clocking David’s movements closely, as Emma’s father walked over to the window and looked through the telescope that was still set up there.

Shifting Neal to her hip, Snow linked her arm with Killian’s. “Let’s get a drink,” she said, leading him back to the kitchen. 

“Wine?”

“Sure.”

Snow watched as he sat down and wedged the wine bottle between his thighs so that he could operate the bartender’s corkscrew one-handed. He opened it with surprising ease.

“Impressive,” Snow said, gesturing to the bottle.

Killian shrugged. “I've had lots of practice.” Whether that was a comment on the number of years that had passed since he lost his hand or his at-times unhealthy relationship with alcohol, Snow wasn't sure. Killian stood to get a glass down from the cabinet and poured. He handed the wine to Snow with a small nod. “Milady.”

“Thank you.” She took the wine, and immediately had to hold it out of reach of her son’s chubby grasping hand.

“Here, let me take the lad.” They shifted Neal from Snow’s hip to his, so that he could easily support the baby with his one hand. Neal dove for Killian’s hook with a squeal, as Killian shifted his own weight to keep the child from pitching himself onto the floor. With both his little hands clutching the shiny metal, Neal brought the hook into his mouth. “Don't worry, it's not sharp,” Killian said.

“It’s fine,” Snow said, taking a sip of her wine and smiling. “He puts everything in his mouth right now.” 

Emma tromped down the stairs at that moment, dressed in a sweater and jeans and thick wool socks, her hair damp and hanging loose. “Hey, guys.” Spotting Killian with Neal, she laughed delightedly and pulled out her phone. “I have to get a picture of that.” Neal continued to gum the hook contently while Emma fiddled with her camera settings.

“Well, I guess we know who to call whenever he's teething,” David said as he joined them in the kitchen.

“Are you saying you’d trust me with your son, Dave?” Killian said with a teasing tone, Emma’s proximity seemingly putting him at ease.

“I trust you with my daughter, don’t I?” David replied, which made Killian blush.

Once the picture was captured to Emma’s satisfaction, she moved over next to Killian, giving Neal a boop on the nose before turning her face up and letting Killian deposit a kiss on her forehead. She stayed close, her hand on his lower back, as if being out of each other's reach for the length of time necessary to bathe was just about as much as they could handle.

“Did you get the thing out of my car?” she asked.

“What, love?” His face held an expression Snow had seen many times, like he had looked at Emma and everything else had just fallen out of his head.

“The Pack-n-Play I borrowed from Regina.”

“That infernal folding crib? It’s in Henry’s room; I’m afraid it defeated me.”

Emma patted his arm in sympathy. “That’s okay, I’ll take care of it.” She turned to her parents. “In case you need to put Neal down later.”

“Thanks, Emma, that was very thoughtful,” Snow said.

“Shall we eat? I managed to make a salad,” Emma said as she headed for the refrigerator.

The meal passed happily, as eating together pulled all of them back into habits forged before the darkness, when they’d shared meals around the table in Snow and David’s loft apartment, sometimes with some combination of Henry, Regina, or Elsa in attendance. Place settings had been crowded together, elbows bumping as they had tried to make room for more people than could reasonably fit around Snow’s table. It had been a happy, more innocent time, one she wouldn’t trade for all the money in the world. For one thing, it had given her a front row seat for watching her daughter fall in love.

Then as now, their hands found each other in the space between their plates, even though Killian couldn’t eat and hold Emma’s hand at the same time. He didn’t seem to mind, though, and the way he watched her while she laughed or talked made Snow’s heart swell with happiness.

More wine was opened, and Snow and Emma both got a little giggly as the evening wore on. David, who was staying sober in case someone needed a sheriff, gave his wife an indulgent eye roll after she snorted laughter at … something, and moved to carry Neal upstairs to put him to bed.

Emma swept her hand out, almost knocking her wine glass over. “Wait, I’ll put together the crib thingy.”

“Killian and I can handle it,” he said, gesturing for the other man to follow him. “For we are men. Assembling things is a man’s duty.”

“Okay, well when you fail, call us,” Snow said in a sing-songy voice. 

“Sure, because what this project needs is two drunk people,” he said with a smirk. With an eyebrow waggle at Emma, Killian followed David upstairs.

Snow watched her daughter watch Killian leave. “Grumpy has a pool going on how long it will be before he asks you to marry him.”

Emma’s head whipped around and her eyes widened. “He _what_?”

Snow nodded. “Quite a lot of people have placed bets.”

“Have _you_?”

“Of course not!” she lied, hoping her daughter’s ability to discern truth-telling was impaired by alcohol. Besides, it was Charming who had technically placed the bet; she had just picked the date they were going to bet on.

“This town, I swear to God.” Emma took a large swig of her wine. “And anyway, who says it won't be me doing the asking, hmm?”

That took Snow by surprise. “Would you?”

“If it screwed with a pool where people are placing bets about my personal life, absolutely I would.” She grinned, giggling. “Do you think he’d say yes?”

“I don’t know, Emma,” Snow said, her own laughter barely suppressed. “I think he’s just not that into you.” 

“Yeah, I was thinking prob’ly we should see other people,” Emma deadpanned, before covering her face with her hands and laughing uncontrollably. “Why is that so funny?” she finally managed to get out.

“Because, you two are so in love with each other, it’s almost sickening,” Snow said, tipping her glass up to empty it into her mouth. “And that’s coming from _me_.”

“Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.”

“Exactly, that’s what I’m saying!”

Emma squinted at her. “ _What’s_ what you’re saying?”

“You know…” Snow waved her hand vaguely. “I forgot. Anyway, how goes the whole living together thing?”

“I’m still pinching myself; I can hardly believe any of this is real. I still wake up and have to remind myself that he’s alive.” Emma shrugged. “All that to say, we haven’t exactly reached the point where we start getting annoyed about the state of the toothpaste tube or whatever.”

Snow nodded sagely. “It’s like a honeymoon.”

Emma flushed. “It definitely is that, yeah.”

“At least you don’t have to try to sneak back into the loft at five in the morning anymore, pretending that you didn’t just roll out of Killian’s bed.”

“I didn’t do that,” Emma said, pretending to be affronted, “... much.” Snow snorted. “Maybe I just wanted to give you an experience you missed out on when I was a teenager.”

Snow grabbed Emma’s hand and squeezed. “I’m so glad you’re happy, Emma,” she said, her emotional state swinging wildly, tears threatening to fill her eyes. “After everything you’ve been through—”

“Okay, let’s not go there, or the guys are going to find us sobbing in each other’s arms in a minute,” Emma said, extracting her hand from her mother’s.

“You’re right, you’re right.” Snow looked around for the wine bottle to refill her glass. “Oh, I meant to say, Emma, he looked very natural holding a baby earlier.”

“Mom, no. Let’s go back to the tearful talk about my happiness. Or sex, let’s have an extremely awkward conversation about sex.”

“I’m just saying—”

“That is like … like _miles_ down the road. Or possibly it’s on a different road altogether.”

“What’s on a different road, love?” Killian asked as he and David rejoined them in the kitchen.

“ _Nothing_ ,” Emma said, giving her mother a firm look as she took Killian’s hand. “How did it go?”

“Success,” David said. 

“Great, then I’ve got some shelves you can help me put together later,” Emma responded.

 

\-------

 

It was late before they got to bed, long after Henry came home from his date and endured questions from all four of them, long after the wine was gone, after her parents finally gathered up their sleeping baby, promising that the family dinners would become a semi-regular occurrence now that they no longer lived under the same roof with Emma. Emma was sobering up, but swallowed a couple of Advil with a full glass of water to guard against the headache that she would certainly wake up with otherwise.

She brushed her teeth, and was spitting into the sink when Killian joined her in the bathroom, clad only in his underwear, and picked up his own toothbrush and the tube of toothpaste. 

Emma leaned against the counter and watched him brush his teeth. He winked at her in that endearingly incompetent way that he had, where he couldn’t quite keep his other eye from half-closing. For such a master flirt, he was a terrible winker. She grinned at him.

“Tonight was fun,” she said.

“Um-hmm.”

She considered telling him about the betting pool about their possible engagement, but she felt unprepared for where that conversation might lead. As he spit into the sink, her eyes settled on the tube of toothpaste. She picked it up.

“You squeeze the toothpaste tube in the middle,” she said.

Killian raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Not from the end.”

“Emma, what are you on about?”

“I squeeze it from the end, so the toothpaste stays all squished up near the top,” she explained.

“Oh.” He still looked bewildered. “Sorry?”

“No, it’s …” She felt tears prickling behind her eyes. “When you live with someone, you notice these little things.” Sharing a home with him had suddenly never seemed more real, and Emma threw herself into his arms. Killian caught her with a little huff of breath as her chest collided with his.

“You okay, love?”

“Perfect,” she said, her voice muffled as she pressed her face against his shoulder. “Or, not perfect. Which is perfect.” She grinned up at him. “Let’s go to bed.”


End file.
